As blow after blow was rained on the shoulders and body of the screaming Tom, his companion could not restrain his indignation, and applied the censuring words to Morris.
The latter turned.
“I’ll see if this ship is to be run by boys any longer!” he yelled, choking with rage.
The whip came down across Will’s form with a violence that fairly took his breath away.
He gasped out wildly from the pain inflicted by the cutting strokes.
Suddenly there was an interruption. A hand stronger than that of the Captain clutched the descending whip.
“Don’t strike that boy again, Captain Morris!”
Jack Marcy had stepped forward, and it was he who now spoke.
The Captain directed one amazed glance at him, dumbfounded at the first evidence of rebellion he had ever seen on board the Golden Moose.
“What do you mean?” he demanded, red with anger.